


The Road to Here

by Arbryna



Series: Endless Wonder (and Dragons) [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-18
Updated: 2012-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-12 09:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myka Hawke has come a long way in the past four years. She's about to go a step farther.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road to Here

**Author's Note:**

> Fic response to [this manip](http://sevievele.tumblr.com/post/29554208376/we-stand-upon-the-precipice-of-change-the-world) on Tumblr, which is honestly just pretty damn perfect.

Myka Hawke has come a long way in the past four years. From Fereldan refugee, to Lowtown smuggler, to Kirkwall noble—it's dizzying just to think about it. Somehow, against all odds—and with the help of an infuriatingly cryptic woman with rich brown skin and tightly braided hair that turned into a sodding _dragon_ , of all things—she has managed to make a life for herself, and for her family.

What's left of it, anyway. Her father is dead, killed by an ogre as they fled the Blight, and her sister, Tracy, is locked up in the Gallows, living as a Circle mage with no hope of ever seeing freedom again. Despite everything Myka's done, everything she's accomplished, she can still feel the undercurrent of blame every time she meets her mother's gaze, lurking beneath the brave front they both wear as a second skin. They don't talk much anymore, Myka and her mother, which leaves her feeling like nothing so much as an orphan. 

Luckily for Myka, she's managed to stumble across a collection of misfits that, together, comprise a makeshift family that feels more comfortable, more like home than her own family ever did: Pete, the goofy, lovable dwarf who likes to regale the patrons of the Hanged Man with exaggerated tales of Myka's misadventures; Leena, the stalwart friend who has been by her side since their escape from Ferelden and now takes great pleasure in exerting her authority as captain over the Kirkwall City Guard; Claudia, the child-like (but not naive) Dalish elf with a penchant for tinkering with dangerous magics; Steve, the solemn ex-slave who really is quite fun once he's had enough wine; and Artie, the impassioned apostate always keeping everyone reminded of what's really important, with the help of the Fade spirit hitching a ride in his head.

Then there's Helena. Former pirate captain, dashing rogue, shameless flirt. Helena who is clever, and charming, and most definitely has some sort of secret that has every indication of being potentially dangerous. Helena who is standing in the front hall of Myka's newly-reclaimed family estate, wearing that ridiculously provocative outfit that she insists serves some practical purpose in battle, looking at Myka with that smirking expression that's equal parts arrogance, amusement, and seduction, extolling the virtues of life in Lowtown, the life and excitement and danger so different from the stodgy propriety of Hightown. 

"There's plenty of excitement in Hightown," Myka says, crossing her arms over her ribs and jutting her chin out defensively. She's not sure why, but she needs Helena to approve of her accomplishment, to find in her something worthy of admiration. 

"Is that so?" Helena replies, eyes gleaming wickedly as she sidles closer. "Well, then," she murmurs, lifting a hand to run calloused fingertips over the silk of Myka's collar, "perhaps you might offer some suggestions?" 

Myka's throat tightens, her stomach clenches at the nearness of the other woman. They've been dancing around this for years—since Helena first showed up in Kirkwall. Myka always knew it was leading to this, eventually, but she never had the nerve to make the first move, and Helena...well, Helena never had to work to get someone into her bed. Myka always figured it was a matter of Helena not wanting to expend needless effort, but there were times that she was sure Helena was simply having fun testing her boundaries, seeing just how far Myka could be pushed before she broke. 

She doesn't know where she finds the courage to speak—or maybe it's not courage at all, but an utter loss of control of her own mouth. Whatever it is, the words spill from her lips without Myka ever consciously planning them. "I can think of a few." 

The slow smile that spreads across Helena's lips sparks a fire under Myka's skin, racing through her veins. Helena leans closer, breath warm against Myka's cheek, and Myka's never been particularly devout, but now she's praying desperately to the Maker that her knees won't buckle beneath her.

"What are we waiting for, then, darling?" 

Helena's lips are a heartbeat away from her own, and for one terrifying moment Myka is sure that her prayers have gone unanswered. She sways on her feet, and it's only Helena's hand, reaching for her hip to steady her, that keeps her from tumbling to the ground. She swallows thickly, her throat gone hoarse with anticipation, and her gaze fixes firmly on Helena's mouth. Myka can feel herself leaning in to close the distance, ever-so-slowly; her heart flutters behind her ribs as she recalls the numerous times she's pictured this moment, wonders if the reality will be anything like the fantasy.

Then Helena is gone, backing toward the staircase with an impish grin. Myka doesn't need to ask where she's going. Helena has been in her bedroom several times over the past couple of months since Myka bought the estate—both with and without her permission—for one reason or another, but never the one Myka wanted, never the reason that involved the two of them in that large four-poster bed, the blazing fire casting sensuous shadows over the walls as they move together toward a release that would shake them both to the core. 

She may have thought about this a little bit. 

The time for thinking is rapidly coming to a close, however; Helena steps backward up the stairs, as graceful as ever, and Myka shakes her head a little, forcing her own legs to work. The brief journey up the stairs to her bedroom is heavy with the same tension that has always simmered between them, things never said but always felt, always known. It's exhilarating, but somehow comfortable.

It takes Myka by surprise, then, when Helena presses her up against the door, claiming her mouth in a first kiss unlike anything Myka has dared imagine, thorough and demanding and leaving no doubt as to where this night is going to lead. Her hands are ever in motion, deft fingers pulling at the fastenings of Myka's clothing, and it's all Myka can do to turn the doorknob behind her and tug them both into the room. Helena launches herself off of the floor, wrapping her legs around Myka's waist; Myka's hands come up reflexively to steady the other woman, feeling warm skin where Helena's tunic doesn't quite meet the top of her thigh-high boots, and Myka is lost. 

Her head is spinning, skin burning everywhere Helena touches it, and she forgets about everything she's had to do over the years to get to this place. It doesn't matter, at least not in this moment—in this moment, it feels as though she was always destined to end up here.

  
_end._   



End file.
